


Incy Wincy Spider

by Sirius_Romanogers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Dark, Dark Natasha Romanov, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, GDFR, Hydra, Natalia Romanova is back, Natalianeedsahug, Natasha AWOL, Natasha Needs a Hug, Occasional fluff, Pain, Paranoid Natasha, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Steve, Protective Steve, Stevegivesgoodhugs, The Soldier - Freeform, The Spy, Traitor, cute Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirius_Romanogers/pseuds/Sirius_Romanogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A void sealed for decades, ignored, obscured and 'forgotten', a past that they'd all been making their best efforts to prevent from resurfacing. Who knew one small encounter could throw off the world's best spy, a weapon in her prime. But it had and because it had every single stitch and seam tightened to ensure she'd forget... came loose, the knots inside her mind begun to unwind, she was slipping back to her beginning, falling, hurdling down the crooked path.<br/>And he'd have to watch her descend, helplessly, but it was time to go back. To address the cluttered, distorted emotions, trauma that she'd worked so hard to cover with her masks, it was time to go back to the Red Room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Target

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on here, I'll try my best.  
> -It's gonna be short  
> -It may disappoint  
> ^Hopefully it won't

Footsteps, the give-away, a rookie mistake that cost yet another guard his life, but it was okay, the death was quick and to the point, the last image in front of him was of a beautiful, cold face, a flash of black and red then he was down.  Precise.  A perfect snap of the neck, a complete dislocation. _Nikakoy poshchady._ She was already on the other end of the wide, destructed corridor, pillars crumbling, walls cracked, tiles uneven and had at least 10 minutes to spare before any backup would arrive. At least she thought so, her next target was down just a second before she could plunge the knife she'd unsheathed into his side.

Her senses were heightened, launching a well-aimed kick into the darkness in front of her only to have her fist collide with a hard wall of warmth that let out a chuckle after the small attack, she flinched then let out a controlled sigh. “I had that you know” retracting her now slightly numb fist from the body of the agent.

“I know” His answer was soft, almost patronising, yet his eyes were stern, she glared at him. But he saw past that, her gaze wavered before she began to brush past him.

“If you knew, then you shouldn’t of hit” Her cold reply was expected, he _knew_ she hated being interrupted when she was on a role, but he’d been itching to go and when he’d jumped off the helicarrier and was glad he’d landed on the right spot.

“Orders?” He shrugged, one hand on the back of his head, scratching lightly at the soft blonde hairs. “Your own I’m guessing.” Her voice was hot with frustration, at him. Something out of the ordinary, these days she was used to him dropping by on mission, Fury’s orders, but this was out of place.

“You need to be on the _other_ side of the perimeter Rogers, not pairing up, we’re supposed to seal the target in, not give him a way out.” Her green orbs surveyed the large, dusty room in which her personal objective lay. Trace. Detect.  Retrieve.  The routine ingrained within her mind, a soft hand slipping into her pocket and plugging in the SHIELD engraved USB.

“Actually, I have orders to shadow you, make sure you bring back the data,” His low tone indicated some truth to what he was saying, there wouldn’t be any other motive to bring him all the way to her location without good reason.

“And your pinpoint?” A question asked with uncertainty, she masked any anxiety from her face but her voice gave it away, to him at least. “Covered, Romanoff, are you okay?” This question was irritating; it meant she was showing weakness, something she loathed with a passion.

“Yes.” Was the icy answer he received, without even a single glance or acknowledgement of his furrowed brows and titled head. “What are you extracting?” The blonde continued to probe, not noticing the tense shoulders or stiff posture of the spy at the computer screen.

“Data.”

A simple answer that she’d hoped he’d accept, but of course, he didn’t.

“I know it’s data, but for what.” The irritation and tension in the air built, there was a good few seconds of silence in the already eerily quiet surroundings, suddenly everything seemed to be listening, there were ears, eyes, everywhere. Listening, watching, examining. “Just do your mission _soldier_ , you’re not a spy.” Ouch. That stung.

“I am doing it, I’d just rather know what it is exactly that I’m protecting” His tone wasn’t soft anymore, almost as cold as hers was, not frightening but surprising none the less. She was just as confused as he was, why was she snapping at him, he was following orders.

But would she say anything? Of course not. Her pride got the best of her, _apologies show guilt, and guilt is weakness_. Yep, sounded about right, but she’d keep that to herself. If there was anything that she hated more than looking weak was apologising, besides it’s not like she would ever need to do so. They were agents, she a spy, him a soldier. They had tough enough skin. “I’m just extracting data Fury ordered me to” She answered, her voice monotone, flat.

It seemed too easy, so unguarded, How long had they been there? Surely by now some backup would’ve arrived, they should’ve been outnumber this very moment. This was unusual, eerie, it was a trap. It had to be. Pocketing the USB after receiving the files, the spy edged closer to the dark surroundings, gun drawn, bites charged.

Steve followed suit, unclipping his shield from his back and guarding the catsuit’s back, his body stiff, tensed, and the uneasy atmosphere in the dank chamber grew. He watched her every movement as she stalked the seemingly non-existent prey into the shadows, he could’ve sworn that she wasn’t breathing, he could barely hear her. Their pace quickened ever so slightly, then they were jogging lightly, avoiding obstacles of fallen blocks of cement and debris, as if right behind the target she was running, leaping, sprinting-Were her eyes deceiving her? She hadn’t really eaten a proper meal that morning but surely she couldn’t of been feeling faint. Her stomach knotted, her eyes widened, her heart beat uncontrollably,  she’d seen it, that faint red outline of-Then she paused.

And it would’ve been a perfect pause, a silent one, had Steve noticed the Widow had stopped in her tracks and not crashed into her, sending her almost falling onto her face as he grabbed and yanked the agents arm back. “Watch where you’re going” She hissed, her annoyance grew as she lost track of whatever it was she’d been chasing. “We’ve lost him” Natasha spoke into her comm, ignoring the eternally irritating question of Steve’s ‘are you okay?’ followed by his ‘sorry’.  Truth be told it wasn’t his fault, she hadn’t signaled that she was stopping at any point, she was the problem.

_“We found an assailant of the target, bring Rogers back to the helicarrier, we’re done here”_

“Roger,”  And she tuned out again, still catching her breath from the sprint and cracking her knuckles, yet another sign of irritation, which was apparently  the only emotion Steve had  seen her express in the whole mission.  

Steve gazed at her expectantly even though he’d heard everything Hill had said, he waited for some kind of comment from the woman in front of him, but nothing. Nothing at all. He sighed, disappointed. But honestly, what did he expect? Romanoff was cold, everyone knew that, but the star spangled man liked to believe otherwise.

“Let’s go,” She mumbled but didn’t turn away from the direction of the lost chase until a few seconds had passed, and when she did her body had relaxed but her face was blank, expressionless. Like she’d seen a ghost. Steve hadn’t even gotten the words out of his mouth before she held her hand up as if to silence him.

“I’m fine,” She’d muttered before turning her comm back on and giving their co-ordinates to the Strike team. Even as Steve helped her onto the helicarrier, even as everyone laughed and joked because of the ‘job’ being so simple she’d been silent. The spy couldn’t help but feel unhinged, afraid, unnerved. That was too easy, too unguarded, it had been a trap, she was sure of that. What she wasn’t sure of was if she was supposed to have seen _that_ thing , to have been able to chase them, and even then, if she had caught up, would they have done what they did all those years ago to her. Brought her back ‘home’. Taken her progress she’d made at S.H.I.E.L.D and thrown it away?

 

 _“moye oruzhiye , vy ne udalos'_ _, kakoy pozor"_ She could almost hear his disappointment, 

 

_Curiosity is deadly isn't it._

"Ya provalil'" She sighed, muttering those words under her breath, running her fingers through her fiery-now straight locks, hunched over, her face in hand, she looked defeated for a minute before returning to that stotic, emotionless mask that was so easy to hit under, it always was. And she ignored the worried look Rogers gave her in between his conversation with the other agents, the laugh of Clint as he and Wilson discussed the mission and inside jokes, the frustrated expression Rumlow wore, looking more pissed off than ever whilst he complained what a 'waste of time' the mission was to him, as if it wasn't to anyone else. She continued to ignore, blank out the others up until they were separating to go to their respective homes, a light tap on the shoulder got her attention, and she saw Steve, those blues eyes could be so mesmerising. It took a while for Natasha to realise they were the last ones left,

"Everyone else went home, want a ride?" He offered sweetly, that was his weakness, he was too kind, but she took it. She could use it to her advantage if she'd liked. 

A small nod let him know to guide her to his motorcycle and hop on, but even during the 20 minute ride to her apartment, she felt herself slipping, 

 _Ya provalil,_ _ya ne udalos', i budut nakazany._

 

 

_Nikakoy poshchady - no mercy._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was right, to her regret, to her horror. They'd been coming, for her.  
> And it wasn't who she expected.

Frigid, sharp, cold.

Marble below, arms aching,

Blinking was difficult, the blur was relentless, as was the shivering that shook her small frame, if she could lift herself up, she would. Her small arms wrapped around her shaking body, cradling herself, she lifted her head up ever so slightly, ignoring the shooting pain that sparked down her bruised spine. She touched her head, wet, retracting her hand she saw red. Blood. It had happened then. Frantically, she tried to observe her surroundings, the shadows almost swallowed the light in the room that dared to peek through the ceiling, she coughed, blood splattered on the ground in front of her, she hugged her partially ripped shirt close to her body to make some kind of warmth, breathing shallowly, she slowly pushed herself to her feet.

Only once she was standing did she notice to screams and shouts that clouded the air, and her vision began to clear, she wasn't really sure what she was seeing, as blobs of colour moved swiftly on the other side of the metal bars she was behind. Those blobs slowly sharpened, until she saw another student, fighting hopelessly with  _him_ the one that everyone would whisper about highly, the ghost story, the small blonde dodged a few punches but once a gray flash of metal was seen, she cried out in pain, stumbling to the floor, convulsing in agony.

 _Yelena_ , She'd almost whispered, but her throat was dry, sore. Her head was pounding, her legs weak, yet strong enough to carry her to the edge of the metal bars of the small cell, but during the small walk she'd almost tripped over numerous sleeping forms that were simply to weak to even make anything louder that soft groans. Clutching the cold iron, she watched, eyes wide with fear, awe, horror. A silver and red arm shone, a blur, striking the young girl in the stomach and giving her a swift kick. A high pitched yowl was all she could hear.

"Yelena." She'd mouthed, her mouth slightly open, tasteless and as dry as her throat, she couldn't of formed a word before a hand was raised.

"Stop" A voice sounded, it's source, a tall burly man, his grey eyes glaring at the child on the ground, "Zhalkiy" He snarled, scowling at the girl who continued to shake below him, avoiding any eye contact that he was offering to her,

"YA ne byla zakonchena" The well built, masked brunette growled, circling the girl as if she was his prey. He was the predator that intended to finish her off.

"We can't lose any of them yet, we've barely begun, try the older students, they'll keep you occupied." The smaller man had reasoned, gesturing to the students lined up against a chipped wall, all nervous, all tense. But the man with the silver arm's gaze did not land there, instead, it landed on  _her_ , though she was in the shadows, the unlit area of the room, he seemed to see her, fixated, determined, angry. She regretted not breaking the gaze, because it'd seem like a challenge to him, who began to saunter toward the cell, stopping a few metres away from the door, he pointed.

"That one, give me that one," He'd announced, his free, more human hand clutching into a fist before releasing, over and over, 

"Dayte yemu shakhtu" The older looking one said dismissively, waving his hand at the guards.

"But sir, she's only ju-Now." He'd interrupted.

The young girl sent a look of betrayal to the man who seemed to ignore her, she finally piped up, "No, vy obeshchali.." She croaked, her voice cracked, she swallowed thickly, nerves loose. She felt raw, exposed, as a guard followed through with his orders and begun to unlock the cell, tight lipped, stern faced, behind that she thought she saw some regret in his eyes, but she probably imagined it, in seconds he'd grabbed her wrist and flung her into the main ring. Her hands barely caught her as she hit the ground hard, elbows scraping against the small loose stones that lay on the floor.

"Stand" Her handler's voice commanded, yet she couldn't, she was tired, exhausted, yet he expected her to fight? Then there was the familiar noise, the crack of an electric current powering up. At the sound of this, she got to her feet, wavering as she did so, even so, she stood in a fighting stance, preparing for a powerful strike that would definitely knock her to the ground again.

"Go first." The brawny masked man muttered, getting his feet in the right position for defense. 

Blinking back the hot stinging tears that threatened to fall from her green eyes, she grit her teeth and launched herself forward, her right fist making contact with his cheek, barely making an impact, he'd dodged, causing her knuckle to only brush his face and leave her almost toppling to the ground. It was futile to even attempt at getting her balance but she tried anyway, which was pointless, after pivoting and facing her enemy she was knocked to the floor, the metal fist colliding with her side, a kick being well placed into her back, she bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, but refused to cry, to scream.

_Black Widow does not feel pain._

Tucking her firey red hair behind her ear, she shoved herself away from the reach of the legend, flipping herself away from his grasps and readying herself for the next beating, which was quicker and more painful than anticipated, another strong strike caught her off guard, but she managed to stagger partially out of the attack, though it did clip her already battered shoulder, she took her chance while he was momentarily open and unsheathed her small blade to cut at his non-metal arm, it only scratched him, a thin line of red left behind from her attack, it wasn't enough to put him off but she'd landed a hit, that had to be worth something, right? 

The distraction of her small celebration was all he needed to grab the young one by her neck and lift her to the air, metal constricting her throat, the girl clawed at it, which resulted in nothing more than a horrible sound and his grip to tighten. "Pomogite! Stop! YA ne mogu dyshat'! I-I can't..." She screeched, kicking her legs until they clipped him in the face, it loosened his grip for a moment but she couldn't slip free of his hold, he was squeezing harder than before, those grey merciless eyes empty,

"Ostav' yeye! Stop! You'll kill her! I need her alive!" Her handler's voice boomed in the now almost silent room, but he wasn't relenting, and soon all she could see was the bright white of the single hanging light in the ring, all she could hear were screams that seemed to voice from other students, all she could taste was the flavour of her own iron blood, all she felt was herself falling.

And landing with a thump. 

Not to awaken for another hour or two.

 

\----------------

 

 

The moonlight that streamed through the blinds seemed to pry at her resting frame, duvet pulled tightly around her sleeping form, hair mussed and body tensed. She sat up right, awake, still shaken from the vivid terror she'd experienced the previous night. Strands of hair were messed into her view, her body covered in an uncomfortable cold sweat. She trembled as she slowed her breathing before opening her eyes which anxiety and fear.

Her surroundings were comfortingly familiar, the simple design of the apartment was perfect, she had a vantage point everywhere in the home. The clock was ticking routinely, her clothes were folded neatly and atop her dresser, her pillows cradled her head gently. However, she noticed the unusual smell of food cooking, it was rare that anyone would stay round her house, so for breakfast to be up before she was, was out of the ordinary. But her drive to lift herself out of bed wasn't there, she felt lethargic and couldn't care less if someone had broken in and was cooking for whatever reason. She needed rest.

 _No, laziness will get you no where._  

And so she dragged herself out of the warm covers, putting on her soft slippers and shuffling carefully to her door. She was sure the intruder wouldn't care much if she was clothed in only a baggy waist length top and some non-demin shorts. Looking at her mirror she inspected her face, fixing her hair slightly, rubbing sleep from her eyes, waking up. Then she warily opened her bedroom door, to her relief, it was her close friend.

Clint.

"You're up early," His relaxed tone made her suspicious.

"Why are yo-Orders,"

"Whose?"

"Stars and Stripes." Barton replied, flipping a rasher of bacon and turning on the coffee machine.

"I don't need a babysitter, I can look after myself" 

The agent shrugged, grabbing two mugs and plating the rashers, ignoring the intense glare blasted at him from his partner, she'd thank him later.

"If he knew where you lived, he'd probably be doing this himself you know," 

"I don't need to be watched, like I said, I can look after myself, go home" Her cold lash was most likely because she was hungry, he knew her well enough, and deep down she had to admit, it was a bit comforting seeing a non-Russian  face after that hellish night. 

"Night terror?"

She blanked him, which he took as a yes.

"We all get them you know, you can talk about it"  _I know, I could._

She shook her head, "It's fine, it's not like it meant anything." Her dismissive attitude was what worried him most, usually by now, she'd of given some sort of vague clue as to what it was, but this, this was nothing.

"How'd you know," His question was unnerving but she shook herself of that thought.  _I don't._

"What time is it?" A cue to change the topic, this was unusual, but Clint played along as best he could.

"Time?..4:25," He answered, placing the pan into the sink and leaving it to soak before sitting opposite his partner, gesturing to the small selection of fresh food he indicated for her to eat. She hesitated, feeling as if she'd just met him again, when he'd had mercy and rescued her, brought her to the light, taken her into his home and fed her. This was home. It was almost enough to rub out the niggling feeling of the damage, she felt safe as she ate, even as she washed, dressed. And once she zipped up the catsuit, charging her bites, she felt like she should of.

Like a weapon.

Clint's phone soon rang, he answered, expression appeared concerned as he nodded and 'uh-huh'd' the call. Natasha watched, stiff, feeling uncomfortable even in her armed catsuit, she sat still on the couch, listening to the conversation whilst Barton paced slowly around the front room. "What? What for?....fine" He held the phone out to her "He wants to speak with you," She mouthed a 'who?' to him but never got a reply, she didn't need it.

"Romanov," A quiet, yet recogniseable voice sounded from the other end of the line, "You need a debrief,I'm not going to have to tell you to be here in 20 minutes, am I?"

She sighed, "Of course not, sir," She'd been expecting to have to arrive in an hour and wanted to be pleasantly early, of course, she didn't get the chance.

"Good," He said in relief. "I need my other good eye,"

"Where's Hill?" Natasha dared to question carefully, usually she didn't ask about the other high ranking agents, but she'd try to pry an answer from the stubborn man who was her boss.

 "Nowhere near you, 20," And he hung up.

She sighed, almost rolling her eyes at the lack of information she'd been given from that call, if it wasn't for that breakfast she would of been at HQ by now and even be on her way to her target.

Oh well.

 

\-----------------------

 

Riding in the helicarrier for over 2 hours not only made Natasha impatient, but anxious, her gazes she gave to other agents had changed, they were sightly menacing, passive aggressive. She'd snapped at one rookie in the HQ for messing up the directions of her target by only 2 metres, she'd not smiled at the trainees as they walked past, she didn't even acknowledge Sam's 'good morning' when she'd arrived, all he'd gotten was a partially blank, partially content set of green eyes staring back at him and before he could ask her what was wrong she was gone. 

Being a level 8 made it easier to avoid other agents, claiming that she had "business to attend to," as her go to excuse for the day, but now that she was in the jet, she was confined to the launching bay with the others, and by others that meant Wilson, Rogers and the STRIKE team. The red head hadn't exchanged any hellos with the company and avoided eye contact though she could feel those baby blues staring and boring into her very soul from her left. She barely flinched when the carrier encountered some turbulence nor when Steve's shield toppled over and made a horrific clang. 

Rumlow stood to make he usual speech at each mission, his 'overview' which he deemed necessary for every outing.

"Now, as you all know, this mission needs to be quick, in and out. Fury himself says we are to only neutralise targets but do not, I repeat do not, eliminate them.This is an order from the director which I figured _some of you_ needed to be reminded of," He shot a quick glance at the woman seated in the catsuit, her glare saying enough. 

 _Oh she understood._   

After the all clear for prep was given, the agent powered up her bites and stretched herself before strapping on a parachute and standing in line for the jump, it was the way she did it such a robotic fashion that bothered the large blonde on her right who wasn't used to this new silent treatment. Sure, they didn't speak to each other every second, but a conversation or two was the norm on the carrier.

Today was different, something had changed in her.

But he didn't know what.

As soon as the iron shutter opened Natasha's muscles relaxed, she rolled her neck and stepped forward, gazing blankly at the drop below her, it wasn't too bad she supposed, Steve stepped forward next to the suited woman in his own attire, his shield placed neatly around his arm, chute-less. Eventually they leaped, falling down for what felt like hours but lasted minutes. 

Her timing was always perfect with deploying the chute, but this day it was late, because for a second the agent could've sworn she'd seen a small red star next to her, the pause was all it took for her to forget her cue, and she ended up falling faster than the rest of them, but it was fine, she deployed, saving her skin and a lecture from Fury that she would've definitely receive when they'd get back. The landing itself was graceful, her two booted feet meeting the soft grass and rough leaves below, why they'd been ordered to skydive at sunrise was beyond her, it didn't seem logical or thought out but it was too late, they'd done it.

She'd been the first to dismantle her chute and camouflage it amongst the shrubs that surrounded the two of them and wasted no time in spotting a gate not to far down hill from here. Unlocking it wasn't an option apparently, but the super soldier was willing to try, slamming himself and his shield into the what appeared to be steel gate, but surprisingly it didn't budge, only denting slightly.

Natasha eyed it carefully, sliding a hand up the gates side slowly whilst examining it closely. "It's redirecting force," Natasha's attention was drawn to the hinges which though were intact before hand, were nearly crumpled, how the gate was standing was confusing, everything else other than it's doorway was crippled. All it took was a guide in the right direction and one half-assed attempt at a strike and it was down. 

Again, too easy,

Just like before.

Her fears were mirrored in her comrade who gingerly stepped into the frosted greenery that covered the area for a few metres before the large grey industrial building. As Steve took confident strides toward the building he noticed that his partner was not at his side, curious, he turned to give a small wave.

"You coming?" He asked playfully, trying to make her less on edge.

A nod was all he received before she brushed past him, quickly unlocking the large iron door that was sealed shut, it now slide open with surprising ease. Something that wasn't unnoticed yet neither of the two spoke about it, it must've been a coincidence. Perhaps after all the years of being opened and re-sealed the hinges had become worn and loose, though this door unlike the gate looked slightly rusted, aged. Yet it had opened so easily, almost smoothly, though it hadn't been light, it seemed to simple. Natasha continued to ponder about this, noticing in the dimly lit entrance, that there were fresh footprints on the carpet, a carpet that looked almost brand new or refurbished.

Steve hadn't really noticed this, he was too busy listening out for any enemies that would be roaming the area, Natasha knelt down, inspecting the prints whilst scanning her surroundings, she almost relaxed until she saw it, that red star. And a silver shimmer, her gun was drawn before she could think and she'd fired a shot carelessly into the darkness in front of her. She saw the ghost of a man, a faint outline, but that was all she needed.

At the sound of the shot Steve kept her back protected, looking for any oncoming threats, before turning to see Natasha almost gone, sprinting down the hallway in front of them, he followed. The red was easy to spot, he just about caught her around every corner until he matched her pace, running blindly into danger, a crack sound to his right, and he dodged the oncoming bullet with ease, targetting the source and engaging, every powerful strike he swung was matched, a silvery limb adding an extra push behind the punches the enemy gave.

Natasha stood helplessly, she could've engaged, fought alongside her partner, drawn the target in some way, but she was shocked, her eyes locked on the movement, however she wasn't that distracted, noticing the man who'd attempted to knock her out from behind, she'd struck first and hard. So hard he cried out in pain as she sank a small blade into his shoulder and slammed a kick to his head, he was down. She'd used a non disarming method.  _Accidents happen_  she reassured herself, 

 _Do not kill._ She thought, aiming another one of her knives into a man's arm instead of his heart.

 _Do not kill,_ The reminder rang again whilst she kicked another in the side and punched his neck.

Apparently she should've noted this thought every time she had someone to face, because her attacks were slowly becoming more vicious, hasty and gruesome.

To the point that she even cracked the shoulder of a barely armed, young looking workman who'd actually been trying to escape. She had soon suffocated him between her legs before flipping away, when regaining her balance, she shot a deadly scowl at her next mark who had foolishly thought he could take her down, of course, he was wrong. The whole 'do not kill' thought had completely slipped her mind, and were now replaced with repetition of  _Nikakoy poshchady. No Mercy._

And Rogers had seen, he's glanced occasionally in her direction and saw her S.H.I.E.L.D fight style disappear, an even more graceful, if possible, merciless technique began to unravel, she wasn't holding back in anyway, as the back ups arrived she'd become harsh, cold, seperated. It was almost as if she didn't hear the screams or begs for mercy, she didn't see the red that was pooling on the floor below her, she saw targets, and she was eliminating them.

Permanently.

"Na-"He'd been struck, his moment of weakness was enough to send him flying across the floor and stumbling to the wall, both him and his opponent were tiring, they were evenly matched, however the blade that his attacker pulled out was fast, as it swiveled, spun and came too close to slicing his skin, but this fight style was somewhat familiar, he'd seen it before. The pale blue-grey, dead eyes that focused on him seemed familiar and oddly comforting though the body attached attempted to take his life. 

Assuming Natasha was going to assist him, he decided against calling for back up, the STRIKE team would be there in seconds, and would most likely mistake the red head's fighting as a threat. Not that it wasn't. It most definitely was, and after she'd killed the enemy backups, she'd turned, and Steve was sure he saw a flash of threat in her eyes, but she quickly recognised him and he could tell that she was surprised with her own behaviour. 

She hadn't felt that free in years, it felt good,

_Powerful. Nikakoy poshchady._

Natasha glanced down to her feet where Steve's last gaze had fallen, and she saw to her horror, a pile of bodies in front of her, some barely moving, others hardly breathing. And red.

_Red._

She gazed at her own two hands, tipped with the blood of her victims, shaking her head she tried to forget, to ignore the urge she had inside her, and she did,

For now.

A howl of pain came from before her,  _Steve_. 

His opponent was almost breaking his arm, jumping into action Natasha leaped across to land a straight kick onto the brunette's head, which he'd noticed, releasing Steve but grabbing her ankle and throwing her into the grey wall surrounding them, he had a new focus, his gaze never left her as he continually approached and struck with anything he had, pulling out his guns and shooting until they were empty, taking out another knife, but she didn't strike back. Rogers could tell that this man was more than a challenge for the spy, he was nearly impossible. Nearly.

He wondered where the ferociousness she possessed a few moments ago had gone, she seemed now to be in slight fear, weary, almost traumatised.

She was scared.

And the Black Widow was never scared.

The sudden burst of the doors was well timed, the woman continued to vault and propel herself away from the swings and stabs aimed for her, a few landed every few moments or so but soon stopped when the masked man concluded that he was out gunned, firing a blind shot to his left toward the STRIKE team, he fled, vanished, in a matter of seconds. 

Her head was light, her knees weak and she felt her skin prick, she made an attempt to follow, to trace the man's steps, but a strong arm blocked her way, held her back. She'd lost to him again, she'd been a coward. "Let him go, Nat," Steve whispered, giving a comforting rub on the shoulder and a weak smile to reassure her they'd find that man again. She didn't bite, didn't take it for one second, but she kid herself into think that maybe they would find him, maybe he wasn't so much of a ghost story after all.

The STRIKE team had only just spotted the pile of bodies, shooting concerned and anxious looks to the girl in the catsuit, except Rumlow, who seemed oddly unaffected by the sight. Natasha's glare landed on him as she clenched and relaxed her fist, cracking her knuckles in a threatening manor and almost drawing her gun. 

"Let's leave," Rumlow ordered, the team clearing the bodies away in a hurry and escorting the two agents out of the hall. By escorting, they meant discreetly hold their arms ready to fire as she led the two out.

Steve kept his shield around the smaller agent as he rested his arm on her shoulder, which was more comfortable than it looked. It was a surprise that she'd let him touch her, and lean on her. Maybe they were closer than he thought and she just didn't want to admit it, his naive ways of thinking were endearing, she smiled to herself thinking back to the bodies on the ground, the red, the screams,

It was so freeing, so uplifting,  it made her alive,

She'd felt powerful, more than ever, just like the old days -then quickly snapped out of the fantasy, almost shying away from Rogers' comforting warm hold.

What was wrong with her? She was more unstable than she herself had remembered, more unravelled than assumed. Unhinged. Steve took her lack of conversation as sulking for losing to the opponent before, but couldn't shake that image of her appearing so content whilst taking lives in the most graceful, elegant fashion. He hadn't realised the true danger that she was, but perhaps she'd been grimacing in pain, scowling taken the wrong way maybe?  

But she hadn't been grimacing, scowling, she was losing something else, she realised as she sat silent on the helicarrier home, she was losing her way, she was uncovering her true identity, she was showing the real Black Widow,

Just as the Red Room had trained her.

_"_

_It's only a matter of time, she needs this mission to prove herself"  The mid-height, burly man had suggested, as her trainer he'd always put her at the highest of standards._

_"You won't fail Natalia, I will not allow it."  The thick accent was almost null, this grey eyed, metal armed man stood tall in front of her, towering over, glaring down._

_"Yes, master." Was the stony reply she gave, eyes icy, a hard expression plastered onto her face, she had done it, this was her freedom._

_To kill._

_"Idi, ubiva, unichtozhat, byt' Chernaya Vdova, claim that title for yourself and keep it,"_

_"I will,"_

  _Chernaya Vdova tol'ko ubivayet,_

 

_Chernaya Vdova vsegda budet ubivat'._

And she kept that in mind during the wait in HQ, lost in her own thoughts until Rogers had left her side and was grabbing two drinks for both of them, hot chocolate. She loved the sweet stuff, and he'd known that even if she'd never told him herself, it was just obvious. So he sat down, smoothly pushing away his shield so it now lay flat on the ground and gingerly, not to mention gently, nudged Natasha until she lifted her head from her hands and gave a weak smile whilst glancing at the hot beverages. 

"Thank you," She'd mumbled, taking a mug and having a few slow sips, sure she'd had breakfast but it was too rushed and savoury for her personal liking. This on the other hand, was just right.

"How're you feeling?" His question sparked a quick flinch, a wave of confusion rushed over her. How was she feeling? She barely knew, all that ran on her mind was the cries she'd drawn and the pain she'd inflicted. _Rightfully so,_ mercy was of course a weakness, it was soft. It wasn't heartless, so therefore in the Red Room's minds it was a waste of time, of course she-"Natasha? Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

 Her emerald eyes locked with his, almost glaring at him, but she gave up, relaxing her gaze and letting those baby blues work their charm. She broke their exchange and took another sip of her hot drink before sighing. "You ever feel like you're going back?" The vague question surprised the Captain, it made him pause, thinking for a moment before giving a simple answer. "I think we all do." 

"Would you want to, if you could," 

"No, the ice wasn't exactly the most comforting place to be" He joked, earning a smile and a laugh from the woman sitting next to him. 

"I meant before that,"

"Well, still no, progress doesn't work that way, if you always go back you'll never move forward,"His gentle answer was so sure, so confident and right. Of course she should've focused on the present, her progress since the rescue had been marvelous as some described. He wasn't sure what she was referring to until he'd answered, her past must've been something, but as always he was oblivious to her story. 70 years was a lot to catch up on after all.

"I know," she finally commented with an even greater, heavier exhale. Her eyes were fixated on the floor but it didn't mean she hadn't noticed how the other agent's eyes would linger, seeming focused on her face, her lips her hair her-"You having fun?" She asked sarcastically, playfully, but there was a hint of malice for reasons even she didn't know. The look on his face was priceless, the sheepish small smile he had on sported by a flush face.

"I-I didn't mean to," He stuttered head bowed, hand scratching nervously at the back of his neck, embarrassed. 

He had to admit, he was glad to see her playful side again, the laughter she'd emit with a wide white grin, her hair falling gently away from her face before she tucked it behind her ear. They wanted to take a leisurely pace in drinking but were soon enough interrupted, which was expected at some point. Out of the office in front of them walked Director Fury, Nicholas himself, the eye patch he was so famously known by was covering his left eye as it always did. He gestured for the two to stand and follow him into his study, there was definitely some explaining to do. 

The cool, sleek, grey and black plan room lay behind the door, a sight seen many times a week by Natasha, however it was still quite unfamiliar to the Captain who'd only been in there 3 times this month and though the photographic memory helped, it still felt like a new environment.

A somewhat uncomfortable distance between the two agents formed and as their hands sway while walking the back of her's brushed against his palm, soft and almost ghosting over him, it was like she hadn't noticed, or at least tried not to. This confused Steve a great deal, baffled as to why there was this sudden change of attitude in the Russian that made her seem similar to a stranger. Natasha on the other hand, was busy focusing on the directors actions, his leisurely walk to his desk seemed to last for minutes and he spend a great deal of time thinking to himself on his chair, back facing them, before opening his mouth to speak.

"You do know why you're here, correct?" His dulled voice was an indication that he was not amused.

"For failing the mission, sir." Natasha answered quickly, before Steve could have the chance to tell details of what happened, he was honest and genuine, which only made it harder to work in partnership with him.

"Not only that, I'm _very_ surprised actually, you seem to push your limit each mission, don't you," Now he had turned his chair to face them, glaring with his good eye, sending a look of accusation toward both of them, but in particular Natasha.

"I don't know what you mean." She lied blankly, but it was so natural that Steve barely noticed it fly past him and when he did Fury was already leaning forward, arms placed on his desk. Her eyes flicked upward a hard gaze exchanged with the Director before he spoke.

"You went against your protocol, you use unauthorized techniques on out armed  _civilians_ , I told you no victims. I didn't want to see a single body bag, but instead I get a comm of a pile of dead men in their own blood, If I didn't know any better I'd say you need a diagnosis, ASAP." 

"I doubt that's necessary, I'm fine." Her insistence didn't change the answer she heard from him,

"This isn't a choice, it's an order, you were fully aware of my requests so I have no choice"  She opened her mouth to form a protest-"That's final, agent."

She could feel Steve's irritating concerning growing next to her, it was patronizing, she was a grown woman, young, but still a woman. And by now she could make her own decisions.

"Rogers, I need you to take some local missions, if she's out, so are you. I can't have either of you compromised." 

The ever polite blonde answered with a 'yes sir' and a nod, understanding and sympathy written on his face.

"Dismissed," 

Natasha's mouth hung open slightly as two guards ushered her out of the study and back into the hallway, but they didn't just end there, the two large men continued to lead her to the infirmary.  _The specialist of mental health._ She rolled her eyes feeling her partner's presence behind her as she was brought into the brightly light, white room. In front of her were two chairs facing away from her and toward a grey desk which behind sat Dr. Fine. Who seemed to deal with all types of medical issues and was almost always in every ward at least once a week. 

It had to be a lucky day. 

Fine was one of the few doctors that Natasha had allowed herself to trust, Fine and Nurse Carter were the safest healthcare she'd ever had and it was obvious why. They were blunt, caring yet still tough, not patronising and childish as the previous workers that had been assigned to 'fix' her. That being said, a trip to the doctors was no picnic, being sent here was a rare occurrence with agents of her stature since they'd all been deemed mentally sound, this was most definitely needed then, Fury couldn't have any trip ups.

"Sit down," Fine uttered gently, nodding at one of the two chairs, choosing the one on the left, Natasha perched on it, crossing her arms and lifting her chin up ever so slightly in defiance.

"What seems to be the problem?" He questioned, sliding out a small notepad and grabbing a pen, ready to jot down information.

"Nothing," She answered flatly. "There's absolutely nothing wrong." 

"You and I both know you're lying, to yourself and to me, come on Romanov, you know you can trust me." His casual tone made her relax a little, her shoulders loosened and her glare subsided.

"How about a standard question, Are you pregnant?"

She gave him a look of disbelief and unamusement. "Hey, it's standard protocol for any medic,"

"Fury sent me the info, so you've been having terrors?" Cutting to the problem immediately was always his tactic, but who else could've let him know about those nightmares except for Clint.

"Barton told you, didn't he?." She muttered in irritation, her glare that had disappeared slowly returned.

"He did the right thing, we can get to the bottom of this problem a whole lot quicker. So, you've been having terrors and disobeyed protocol," He pushed his chair back, swivelling and typing up the info onto the computer,  _Stark Industries_ could be made out at the edge of the screens frame. The comfirmation of this small betrayal was annoying but deep down she knew both of them were right, there was something wrong. 

_Of course._

 

"I want this to be easy, so we'll make this quick, what exactly were you seeing." 

 "An old memory,"  _she was knocked to the floor, the metal fist colliding with her side._ The images of those beautiful, deadly grey eyes that pierced straight through her came to mind, the feeling of have her throat constricted to point she could barely breathe, the sight of him finally taking mercy and releasing her so she fell back, onto the ground. They all came back. And she took a moment to process each vivid minute she had spent in that torture of a childhood. _  
_

She continued to speak of her sufferings that she'd dreamt of, not in full detail, she didn't trust anyone that much. But it was obvious that she was still traumatised by all her experiences, just speaking about it made her seem smaller and defenseless but only slightly. She straightened up in her seat, refusing to appear as though she was weak, soft. It was obvious she wasn't but her pride was hard to convince otherwise, she assumed the others saw her as she saw herself.

"Even with me telling you this, it's not going to do anything for you," She said glumly, no longer interested in reciting what she'd envisioned last night. 

"It'll help more than you think it could, nobody is emotionless," The Dr. received a raised eyebrow at the comment, "You're just better at hiding it, trust me."

The spy shrugged, glancing lazily at the clock and trying to estimate the amount of time she'd spent in here. A least 15 minutes. 

"If it's all the same to you Doc, I doubt that either of us are getting anywhere, so in that case I think it's fair to say this is a waste of time."

"Nothing is a waste of time," Fine continued, noting down word to word what the agent had told him in the past time they'd been speaking for.  "Well so far the evidence from the others hasn't been substantial to know how bad your mental state is, so for now just take it easy, local missions only. I'll issue you to stay in the towers with your partner and possibly Carter, Rogers should know you well enough to see any changes in behaviour." 

"So I need a babysitter?" The woman scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "And you think that  _he_ knows me? I'd rather Barton or even Banner, but  _Rogers?_ He's not even my original partner!" She was astounded at the almost dismissive tone that Fine had used to give her an order, even daring to tell her who she was to be with during the temporary arrangement. 

"Romanov, it's about compatibility, Clint doesn't have a clean slate which could fuel your imbalance, Rogers on the other hand, he has barely lived, he's more of a cushion. That is my only intention, to ensure you're in safe hands, and he takes orders just as they're given." The doctor continued, seeming to write a prescription for the patient who was still not convinced that his method would improve the already bad situation.

"It's not just the environment and people you stay with that will affect you, but the medicines will too,  _if_ you choose to accept my help, I'll be giving you a pill, it's one of a possible three that you'll receive during this treatment. This one in particular is going to begin to slowly open up your occipital lobe within your cerebral cortex, this will bring back hallucinations and images from whatever it is in your past that has been troubling you, we can then find the trigger and hopefully neautralise it so that you won't be affected by it, or at least not as much. However, this is a prototype and does come with many side effects, which you can read on the side of the box for yourself," He began to explain,

"And exactly how long will this _treatment_ last?" Her sarcastic and irate tone was evidence that she'd barely believe it would succeed and she crossed her legs and eyed the small cardboard cuboid suspiciously.

 "In all honestly, I'm unsure of that, it depends on how deeply rooted your trauma is, the further it is the longer the process would be expected to take." He shrugged, adjusting his glasses and watching the reaction the woman gave carefully.

After much thought, a question emerged, "If I do take this medicine, and you do find the trigger, what then? Is it just wiped out of my mind?" She felt uneasy, though a majority of her childhood had been traumatic, she needed those memories to ground her, make her whole. Remind her of who she was and how she got to where she was today.

"Essentially yes, but in reality no, after you've taken all of the set of pills we'd then isolate and extract or alter that memory using the technology that would be provided by Stark and powered by his equipment, not only would we be able to help you, but we'd make a break through, possibly help cure PTSD an other traumatic memories, it'll make you more reliable, more efficient," His speech had slowly become more excited, frantic and enthusiastic. This didn't completely discourage Natasha but it didn't reassure her either.

"So I'll be a test monkey for your little project, and if it fails, I lose my memory?" She asked, doubt in her voice louder than her cold tone.

"I assure you that our research is probably more advanced and further than you think it is, think of it as taking out a fragment, a fraction of what your memory was as a whole, and when the treatment is over you'll feel no different. You'd get better sleep at night, guaranteed." 

"And I just happened to be the one compatible or is this just convenient timing," Again she scoffed, though deep inside she had hope that this was a solution to the growing problem.

"Both, I'd finished making this mark of tablet just last month, it's the final prototype but you'll be the first to test it," 

 

Steve had been hearing the conversation clearly even when he'd moved a good few metres away and had almost understood everything that had been said (excluding the complex medical terms). Placing his shield on the ground, he pondered as to why on earth Fine would need to test an unstable medicine on an even more unstable patient, though occasionally he misjudged, 9/10 times he was correct and this little deal didn't seem right to him, it was very rushed, hurried and sloppy with the arrangement, starting from parachuting at sunrise to ordering no kills on an infiltration mission. Nevertheless, he'd followed orders but he didn't really pay much attention to Doctor's confidentiality and continued making mental notes of the possible lies that were being slid right under the best agent's nose. 

After nodding to the passing agents and politely declining assumptions made by nurses that he was lost as they'd tried to 'guide' him to the 'front lobby' by wrapping their dainty arms on his muscular ones and gently tugging him in their direction, leaning forward to expose what little they had to show and making the 'eye' he made his leave. Bucky had warned him after he'd seen the serum's affects that women would be throwing themselves at him, he just never thought Barnes had meant it literally. 

So instead of standing idle in the infirmary, he'd stand in the main lobby, drinking from his bottle of water and waiting patiently for Natasha to turn up from around the corner, knowing she'd be there in a couple of minutes

 

\------------------------

 

"If I do agree, and this goes wrong, do my memories just disappear and you take no responsability," Her voice was now shaky, she feared worse but a comforting answer relieved her,

"Of course not, the only way for your memory to be lost completely is for you to have had all installments of every set of pills, preferably in the correct order." 

"How many installments do you predict that I'll need,"

"Possibly 2 of the occpital, at least 3 pills a day for 2 weeks. That's only the first installment." He answered firmly, continuing to sign off the prescription that he'd forgotten about earlier. "If you're still very uneasy just take one for today, I can heighten the mg for the upcoming doses, that is if you choose to fully complete the treatment, take one for now, have it with something to eat and try to get a lot of rest, you'll need it."

Handing her the box and note, he ushered her out of the ward and back into the general hall, holding the medicine she stared at it in doubt, anxiety. Then she began to make her leave after getting dressed into some more casual wear, ignoring the confused stare that Rogers sent her way and continuing to leave HQ. Steve could only watch on, to nervous to say anything or call out to her and instead saw her leave. Cautious and uncomfortable, the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood, she could tell she was being followed. It was obvious by who, many wouldn't have noticed, but she was one of the world's best and most deadly spies. And so was he.

After she'd taken a right down a small alley she turned to face him, Clint of course stood, staring right back into those stern green eyes.

"You off somewhere?" 

"I'm going to the tower actually," Natasha sighed.

"What for? Pepper and Tony are a thing now remember, don't be a homewrecker," Barton joked, the woman tried to hold the stiff cold expression she'd been wearing for most of the day but flashed a grin with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm not exactly on the prowl right now but thanks for the warning,"

"Anytime, Red, so what's really going on here" Turning to walk back up their tracks.

"Orders, Fine's and Fury's, I need some 'time off' to 'rest'." She mocked, quoting and gesturing with her fingers while following Clint out from which they came.

"What'd you do this time?" He chuckled, resting his arm on her shoulder to blend in with any other civillian in this crowd, leaning his head closer to hers making it easier to hear her words.

"He told me they weren't sure I was completely 'mentally stable' because of my little accident this morning,"

"Accident?"

"I killed at least 4 men and probably put the other 3 in critical condition when I was supposed to only disarm them," She muttered making sure to space out her words and letting the conversation mix into the crowd. 

"Well then you can't really blame him for wanted you to rest, you've been doing extra missions a lot recently, it's understandable." His words did and didn't surprise her, he wasn't one to side with all authority for the sake of authority, but he always gave good advice and a logical view.  "You'll feel pretty pissed for the first few days but you'll get over it,and if both Fine AND Fury gave you this order, I recommend you follow it, maybe it'll do you good."

"You can't come to my room, Fine's orders, so I'm gonna be gone for a while." She uttered sadly, he was and always had been her closest companion, to have him absent was absurd and unnerving.

"I'll speak to you as soon as I can, you know I will," He reassured her as they approached the Tower's doors,

 They came to a halt out side of the finger print activated steel door, his hands holding both shoulders, Clint gave Romanov a gentle shake of her body with a smile on his face. A quick hug was exchanged and before she knew it he was gone, camouflaged into the rest of the workers and residents of New York, she turned to face the door after giving the city one last longing glance and rang the bell. 

She was welcomed by a smirking Tony and a cheery Pepper, one took her bag and pills the other stood and almost laughed until a  glare was pointed in their direction, it was obvious which actions belonged to whom. 

"Pepper, show her to her room" He sniggered, so amused at the fact that for once Natasha needed him for something. She rolled her eyes in response and followed the more mature blonde into the Tower. 

"It's been some time since you've been here huh," Breaking the silence that had surrounded them, Pepper made this small comment to try and keep the spy's mind off her treatment.

"Yeah, it has. Some things haven't changed obviously," Glancing at Tony who'd decided to join the two in the lift before it took off. 

"You two are hitting it off pretty well, Natalie, Natasha, Rushman, Romanov, what're you here for?" The man teased, expecting a calmer response than what he received.

"I'm just crashing here until I get the chance to place two hands around your neck and squeeze while you sleep, other than that? Nothing." She sneered, crossing her arms and huffing.

"We're feeling pretty feisty today aren't we, Red? You know, I don't think it's a good idea to threaten the people who while be providing your food and medicine." 

"I don't think it's a good idea to wind up a trained assassin, but you know, you do you." 

He smiled, bemused, "Yep, she's back," Giving a patronising pat on the shoulder and belittling grin. "Short and sassy,"

"Arrogant and narcissistic " She laughed, relaxing her arms and smirking at her annoying acquaintance. 

"Well you're not wrong about that." Pepper commented, glad the two were finished bickering, Natasha needed this stay to be as relaxing and calm as possible, that meant no confrontations. It was looking like a pretty good start.

Soon enough they'd set her up in her unused villa that had been offered to her after the Avengers had, well, avenged New York a few weeks ago but she'd never taken it, now it was being forced upon her and she thought she might as well have gone along with it in the first place. 

It wasn't bad at all.

The view over New York was spectacular, the villa itself was large and luxurious with a simplistic design of course it wasn't as big as Stark's room but it would definitely work. Finding her bedroom she settled down, unpacking the bag she'd brought and exploring the suite, the bathroom was a lovely ensuite but unfortunately had a large mirror plastered to one wall, a wall of mirror. She looked at herself, her hair was smooth and neat, her jacket was slightly old and her skinny jeans held tightly to her frame. She looked average, not something out of the ordinary, until she looked her own eyes. If she'd been seeing things then she would've sworn she'd seen a slight red tinge to the emerald of her iris but shook the idea away, her back now facing the mirror she ignored the fleeting thought and continued to rummage through the studio.

It was apparent that everyone had taken up Tony's offer of living here, excluding Clint. She'd found evidence of the other's in the main room, a test tube rack sat misplaced on the coffee table, _Banner_ ,  a foreign book,  _Thor_ , a small copy of blueprints for wings, _Wilson,_ and a small, worn, black note book whose owner she couldn't figure out and made the assumption that it was Rogers, assuming he also lived here that is. So she slipped it into her pocket and carried on exploring.

It did make sense though, this was probably the safest place in New York, in America, for any of them, with a possible Hulk dwelling in this building it was unlikely that anyone would willingly try to  land an attack, especially in the capital of Albany and a world renowned business district, that would be illogical and suicidal considering the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D also resided in the City.

She decided that it was only natural to make herself as comfortable as possible in the new living conditions, since she'd be here for a while everything needed to be familiar, even one item off and she could shock herself. And of course a shocked spy was never a good force to reckon with because she was one to sleep with a gun under her pillows, how typical. Natasha sat on the edge of the silk covered sheets of her new bed, it was a large queen size that was placed carefully by the wide window giving a panoramic view of the city without exposing any of the room's contents, it was a smart layout which was expected since the tower was owned by one of the world's most intelligent men. She had to give him credit, he knew design better than she'd expected, knowing that placing her in a room that gave her an advantage over everyone below would make her feel safe, secure.

And she continued to find small bumpers to help make her more at home, until she noticed items from her own apartment scattered attentively around her suite. But she didn't mind, after all, the agency did know their workers well, it was the most important part of running S.H.I.E.L.D and the hardest. But by slowly discovering her belongings one by one, she felt more at home, and thus, more safe. More relaxed. Just like Fine had wanted.

 

He'd been sprinting for the past 3 hours since returning from a second local mission after Natasha had gone home and was now making his own marathon around Manhattan, easier done than said for him, by harder said, it was more of a harder to explain situation, but once the people he'd conversed with had realised he was still Captain America, doubts and worries disappeared. He savoured that feeling, the feeling of no longer being the brittle, weak boy that he was before the serum, and a wave of thankfulness washed over him as it always did every now and again. He was strong, in both will and body, but he'd never gotten to say a proper thank you. So he'd been doing it in action rather than words, his mind always wandered during his runs, as he leaped over broken woodwork and dodged impatient dog walkers in the park, he kept in mind what he frequently did on this exercises, that running would train himself to use the serum to full potential.

Now finally crossing Times Square, the orange tinge of the sunset glow reflecting off the glass of the many skyscrapers that stood tall in the huge bustling metropolitan, he quietly jogged down the large road, ignoring strange catcalls and whoops he received from drunkards or the irritating begging from shrill voices for autographs as he made his way back to the Towers. After pressing his thumb against the small pad and being let into the compound, he walked, tired, into the tower and made his way to the lift. It took him up past the many floors of the multi-storey building up, up, until the carriage had arrived at the main lounge.

He exited, rubbing the little sweat away from his forehead with the back of one hand and fidgeting for his keys with the other, he had only plodded up the corridor when he noticed something odd, first of all, if his memory was correct (which it was always was) Steve would've thought  _wasn't_   _the test tube rack over by the potted plant on the coffee table and not on the arm of the couch,_ his eyes darted to another spot  _and wasn't the Norse book just a little to the right?_  He glanced quickly at the spot he'd left his belonging, a double take, his notepad, his black leather back little notepad was not there. _  
_

And that wasn't right at all. 

It wasn't a huge breach of trust, but it bothered him greatly, after all, everything stored inside that book was helping to desensitize to the change of the world around him, to become familiar to this strange, modern, globe, at least beginning with America. And he couldn't do that without the notepad, annoyed was one way to put it, today he had planned to log onto the thin flappy 'computer' in his room and finally discover what this whole 'Netflix' thing was about, Tony had given him a list of movies and series that he'd wanted Steve to watch and finally catch up on. They could actually converse about something they both understood, well Tony always understood but to Steve he never spoke English when he would yak on and on about his studies.

The super soldier continued to stroll to his room, taking the lift up just another floor, whilst walking down the corridor he noticed that the room that was always locked now had its door half open, and he could just about see what looked like a shadow inside the suite, instinctively he became alert, listening out for any noise that the intruder would be making. But instead of a clang of items falling on the floor as he expected whilst he'd snuck in past the main door, he heard a soft humming and a sultry voice, one that he remembered so clearly because not only was it heard every day, but it was enticing. Peeking past the corner and shuffling toward the bedroom door, he tipped his head to see a sight that was almost misty to him, looking through the jar space between the door and it's frame. A curved body highlighted by the sun lay peacefully, stomach down on the large queen sized bed, as his eyes trailed upward he saw the curtain of red that masked the woman's face but it was obvious who it was that lay in front of him, _Natasha_. 

She was relaxed, alert still, as shown by the Stark-S.H.E.I.L.D pistol that lay with her right next to those soft hands that held a small, leather, black book but she seemed content. He'd thought she hadn't noticed someone watching, but she had, only she ignored the feeling assuming it was paranoia. Struggling to get a better view he leaned to the left a little, just slightly, if only his footing hadn't been to loud, one step too close to the door ended with a small thud of a right foot. At that moment the blissful picture in front of him faded, she was up with the gun pointed in his direction in seconds, her eyes wild with fear and anxiety, as he raised his hands in defeat she lowered her pistol, her hands shaking, those green eyes still wide and feral and locked on him. On target.

"Look I-"What're you doing here?" She spoke quickly, her voice as shaky as her grip on the gun that was now holstered.

"I thought someone broke in and-"The room's been locked for months, nobody can get in here anyway, now leave." 

"Natasha, I don't want this to be an issue between us, I wasn't doing anything else other than scoping out, I swear," He spoke quickly, a pleading tone to his voice.

"Then why did you watch me for so long, Rogers?" She crossed her arms, clutching onto the fabric of her black vest top.

"I just," His attention drew to something else, the small black leather book. "You wanna tell me where you got that?"  Her eyes followed his until they too landed on the notepad. 

Now it was her turn, "I thought it'd be interesting, I was curious, you're missing some pretty important stuff in there though, like Star Wars, Disney, Tom & Jerry," Her rambling wasn't distracting him, but it was cute for the minutes she talked for but once she'd finished the air seemed thinner, the room seemed hot and the lasting gaze between them was unbreakable and overwhelming. Her eyes flicked down and came into contact with his again, "Here," she offered, "You can have it back, sorry about that," flushed, embarrassed yet surprised he'd kept his eyes on her face and not her body.

He took it from her slowly, longingly staring into her eyes, his heart raced and his throat was dry, but if he could just pluck up the courage to- "Hey red, I brought the medicine," a loud announcement from the largest ego in the city sounded before appearing in the doorway, arch reactor glowing under his black sabbath t-shirt. He cocked a brow and gave a amused nod "Am I interrupting something? Dinner's ready by the way, just thought you'd want this" Natasha broke their gaze and walked to Tony, taking the box of pills out of his hand, acting as if nothing happened. And Steve watched her still, disappointed and frustrated at his seemingly eternal bad timing, if only Peggy had explained in detail how  _bad_ he was at talking to ladies or dames as he would've said, maybe he'd've practiced in a mirror or something.

After Stark had left, the spy's back was still facing him, the vest top was fitted along with the black leggings she wore, it only enhanced her shape which was hard to ignore. A good few seconds passed until either of the two spoke. The air was filled with tension and Rogers held back the urge to shake the girl's shoulders himself, she was the talkative one whose voice was almost melodic to his ears, he already missed it. But it didn't know why. Just as he was about to speak she turned round to face him, taking cautious steps toward the soldier until they were an arms distance apart. 

"I think we should go," She said to his surprise.  _We?_ , she wasn't sure why she'd said it either. "I still haven't figured out the AC in this place and I'm pretty sure Jarvis is taking a break."

 _"I was a command a way, madam."_  The AI commented, gaining a smile from the two.  

"Technology these days," she muttered, amused then began to make her way out of her room, noticing he hadn't really followed she paused and gave an expectant glance to Steve. 

He stared back for a second then began to move too, following her downstairs even though he knew the place probably better than she did he watched her every step of the way, every sway of her hips, he'd bit his own tongue and tried to ignore the impure thoughts that clouded his mind. It was tempting, she was a tease and after not being able to even give a proper kiss to a dame this was pushing it over the line. 

Dinner was the test of patience and even Tony had to admit he was impressed with the soldier's will, then again, he was the only one who noticed how flirty the Russian had become after taking the pill and he'd already predicted she'd bed him in a matter of days, because she knew the limit, so why not push. She continued to push the limit by leaving extra touches when she laughed, wearing those vest tops around him on purpose, bending and stretching in the most alluring of ways, she knew how to push buttons and Captain America was just the one to push. 

After all, the super soldier serum did  _way more_ than just build up some muscle, it  _enhanced_  the male body, and she wanted a try. A sudden change of character, she was now impatient and the longing she'd had for the past months had become more of desperation, but she didn't let it show. The last pill of the night she swallowed before settling down in bed alone, she could already feel it, the next few weeks were going to be eventful.

If only the soldier had known what he'd gotten himself into, she wasn't the same, not that she ever was but it was more than a name, more than an alias, as she lay in the queen size she felt adrenaline pump, she needed to hunt. Needed to eliminate.

_Chernaya Vdova vsegda budet ubivat'._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "YA ne byla zakonchena"- "I wasn't finished."  
> "Dayte yemu shakhtu" - "Give him mine"  
> "No, vy obeshchali" - "But, you promised."  
> "Pomogite! Stop! YA ne mogu dyshat'!" - "Help! Stop! I can't breathe!"  
> "Ostav' yeye! Stop!..." "Let her go! Stop!"  
> Nikakoy poshchady. - No mercy  
> tak mnogo krasnogo - So much red.  
> di, ubiva, unichtozhat, byt' Chernaya Vdova - Kill, destroy, be Black Widow  
> Chernaya Vdova tol'ko ubivayet, - The Black Widow only kills  
> Chernaya Vdova vsegda budet ubivat'. - The Black Widow always kills


	3. Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vy upali plokho, malo pauka - You fell badly, little spider.

A warm breeze ghosted over her as she slept, the covers of the bed were light and soft, the silky material would  _help her sleep_  as Stark had insisted the before when she scoffed at them,  _he wasn't wrong._  Of course being the never trusting woman she was her pistol lay neatly under the pillow her head lay upon, one hand gripped onto the sheets as she winced, a ghost pain struck her side and she gasped desperately for air before her eyes snapped open and she sprung from below the covers. With the glaring into her eyes she squinted, facing away from the large one way window to her right and staring into the shadows of her room.

Yet nobody was there, there was no burning car, no cowering scientist and no bullet that ripped through her and into him. 

It had been a dream,

a memory.

She glanced down to the source of her pain just above the lace of her lingerie at her left side was the scar, a wound not so fresh. Healed over. Just at it'd always had been. Natasha noted her hand trembling as she placed the gun into her bedside table and locked it, noticed her strange ache resonating from her chest during her shower and the dryness of her throat as she brushed her teeth. Lifting her head up she rinsed her face and stared harshly at her own reflection, those piercing eyes seemed different today, shaking her head and getting dressed into more comfortable clothes. 

By the looks of things her spontaneous plan hadn't worked, she'd woken up alone, the luxury laced yet itchy bra and undies had been no more than a fruitless effort. But with good cause, sleeping with a member of the same agency would be irresponsible and unprofessional, however that didn't mean she would simply give up maybe another time perhaps. The thoughts that clouded her head were dismissed as she once again suppressed her emotions. It was  _out of character._

The woman straightened her fiery curls so they reached past her shoulder, framing her face nicely, especially when they looked so red today, which was the first thing Bruce had noticed when the Russian had walked into the main kitchen without saying a word to the others who'd also just been waking up and making breakfast. Her eyes severe and emerald as always seemed brighter this particular morning, her outfit similar to yesterdays of a black vest top with matching black leggings still seemed attractive to the soldier who'd only just walked in and was almost leaning against her as he reached for a mug from the cupboard and she buttered her toast. His warmth radiated, his breath tickling the nape of her neck as she swept her hair to one side, she knew what she was doing and she did it well, making the already humid morning seem sultry. He found a spot next to her squeezing past Clint  and Thor who both thought it would be bright to try and walk through what felt like a narrow walkway and made himself a hot cup of coffee, he didn't really like the stuff but Tony had encouraged him to give it another go. 

Romanov on the other hand seemed to be taking her time in making her small breakfast, her back somewhat arched, highlighting a perfect curve, her skin appeared soft and silky as did her locks of strawberry-coloured hair and today she looked rather different. Dangerous? No, she was always dangerous, so Steve shrugged his shoulders and let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Looking up from his mug he locked eyes with the woman he'd been thinking about, a smirk and a wink were what he received actions that brought out the young boy in him and made the soldier flush, he smiled back at the sight of Natasha's lips curling up with her mischievous expression.

That wasn't so strange, right?

The spy sauntered out of the kitchen and into the living room, placing herself on one of the large grey leather couches in the area and crossing her legs whilst turning her attention to the news, this channel in particular were berating the Avengers initiative calling it a 'scam' 'another way for the government to ignore real issues' the Russian chuckled furrowing her eyebrows and rolling her eyes occasionally to what the anchor was 'reporting'.

"They're still hung up on that?" Stark asked a hint of sarcasm in his voice,  

"Yep," Natasha answered, "Apparently we're 'distracting the government from real issues'" She muttered, still amused that the only photo of her was with Steve and of course it was when she was pointing a Chitauri weapon at him by mistake,  "Who takes these pictures anyway?" She asked a certain level of irritation in her question as she continued to munch on her last piece of toast and take a sip of kusmi tea.

"I hear they linked all the security camera's together and possibly organised a few reporters to take a risk or two," Banner commented, a little less than amused as his photo was of him appearing to frighten masses when he was really scaring off a few of the aliens, he too huffed before continuing his breakfast.

"Are they not grateful for our brave and chivalrous battle? My friends, these images are not much more than evidence of our great war against Loki's forces," The Asgardian spoke with pride and a grin on his face, a grin that made the other agents force weak smiles.

"I'm not sure they appreciated the damage you inflicted on the city, which by the way, is still being cleaned up no thanks to all of you." The commanding voice that had been heard everyday inside S.H.I.E.L.D  HQ was now resonating in the Stark Tower. 

"Can someone please tell me that my security was not breached and Fury  _isn't_  standing in my living room? Privacy, I mean come on, JARVIS what happened to reinforced locks?" The billionaire spoke sarcastically yet again with frustration written all over his face. 

_ "I tried Sir, but his finger print was registered with access." _

"And who's idea was that?" Tony continued, 

"Doesn't matter, I could've gotten in the hard way, you're lucky I chose easy." Fury said nonchalantly, straightening out his cape like leather jacket

"Well I'm not surprised," Barton mumbled before taking a gulp of water and putting away his plate. Stark shot him an ugly gaze, "What? Come on he's Fury,"

"I'm not exactly surprised but it would be nice if you knocked, just once?" 

As the bickering continued Natasha took her glass of water and placed a small pill in her mouth whilst nobody watched, well, almost nobody. She swallowed unaware of the soldier having seen her the whole time, before standing up and walking over to the small childish argument that was still taking place. "You know you could just get to the point of why you're here, we need a briefing." Her voice was stern and as usual shut up the playboy and Clint, giving Fury time to speak.

"I actually came here to give a message, your missions haven't changed, we continue to pursue the target however I'm gonna need Romanov to sit this one out, do some observation at best." 

" _I_ am perfectly capable of getting through this mission,  _sir._ " Her voice became defiant, almost rude. "I don't need to be patronised or babied, thank you." She picked up her bites that had been laying idle on the coffee table since yesterday.

"I'm gonna charge up the suit," Stark said sheepishly exiting the living room.

"Romanov we've already spoken about this, I'm actually letting you do more than expected, funnily enough you're supposed to be in lock down."

"Because I'm an ex-KGB? Or because of the pills?" She sneered at him, the other members were slowly leaving the room to prepare for their mission.

"It's not up to debate as to why I'm giving you instruction, you stand down, you suit up, but you do not intercept." His eyes were set, dark and would be intimidating to anyone else but her, "That's an order."

"A-It's an order." Nick's voice interrupted, seeing the other spy's glare soften, her face becoming a neutral expression and the corners of her mouth curling into a tiny smile.

"Of course, I understand,  _sir_." And she walked, brushing past his shoulder and out of the living room, down the hall, into her suite, slipping of all her clothes but the underwear and bra then suiting up into that catsuit of hers and sharpening her longest blade on her way out.

The members waiting in the balcony of the Tower spoke in hushed voices once they saw Natasha slide into their circle, Tony shot a confused expression, his small speech trailing off to which the Russian simply smiled and raised her eyebrows nodding toward the others.

"Okay, let's go."  Steve's command sprung them into action after the small distraction, they soon began piling onto the helicopter which them loaded them onto the quinjet. The agents took their places, Clint and Banner buckled in the front seats, Bruce taking Romanov's usual spot while she sat in the hanger with the others. As Thor and Stark lead their own rousing discussion about weaponry and fighting tactics, magic vs money, Natasha sat in silence with only Steve's eyes watching her cautiously as she sighed quietly, crossing her arms and leaning her head against the wall of the jet staring blankly into space. It was going to be a long journey after all, mental preparation was a priority.

_ " Vy Chernaya Vdova, vy ub'yete" _

No, that wasn't what she needed. At least not right now.

_ Observe, retain,  _

_ Observe, _

_ "Observe, dear spider, you will watch as he kills and you will learn," _

_ "Yes, master."  The now young woman replied, cold. _

_ "And you will demonstrate the death, _

_ the destruction all Widow must bring, every KGB agent must be fearless." _

_ Fearless _  repeated in her mind as she ran out of the fire of a spray of bullets, rolling behind Steve for the protection she needed.

_ "The Widow has no fear, she does not fear death just as this man doesn't," The short stocky man gestured to the built male armed with an array of guns and knives dotted along his armour, a large semi-automatic held by his flesh arm, the other empty handed, it was a weapon in itself, silver and sleek with the capability to shatter bone with ease. His shaggy chin length hair covering his eyes, his black sleek mask concealing his mouth. The ghost story. _

And a small pang of anxiety lit in her stomach as she shielded herself from enemy fire before managing to leap above the fighting onto the railing attached to the ceiling in the hanger, hiding in the shadows.

_ "The Widow does not fear death because like the Soldier, she brings death herself,"  _

Another round of bullets dodged before slinking away, darkness engulfing her up, 

_ "You will cast fear into your enemies, they will quake at the sense of your presence, you will uphold the legacy to the KGB and strike fear into your foes, young spider, become the Black Widow," _

_ Become the Black Widow _  echoed through her mind as she sprinted across the upper landing of the hanger to stay out of sight.

_ Cast fear into your enemies, _

Yet she shirked away from harm and simply ran to her small almost meaningless contribution to this mission.

_ "The name Black Widow is not just a name but a legacy, a title which you must hold with pride whilst you rip the hope and very souls from those who oppose Russia, who oppose you"   _ She stared blankly at the computer screen once inserting the USB, though she hadn't been told what exactly was on the PC, she needed the information.

Retrieving it went smoothly, her nimble fingers typing the codes she needed to break temporarily into the system whilst the others continued to plough down opposing forces. Natasha froze, her body stiff and on edge, taking a moment to drown out the sound of fighting that was barely muffled as it took place just a mere 10 metres away, block out the sound of her heart beat, even her own breathing. In a flash she spun, swiping the USB and swapping it for her now unsheathed knife breaking into action, her blade cut carefully through the air just about missing the fighter's black most likely combat-proof  armour one that seemed sophisticated, modern, yet old, used. A sharp kick into the man's side resulted in nothing more than pain shooting through her foot, her eye catching a glimpse of a pistol, more specifically a Tokarev plated with silver, once holstered in his weapons belt now skidding across the floor. 

Reaching for it quickly she swiftly dodged his thrown punch, her nails almost reaching the gun's metal before she was kicked sharply to her abdomen, almost crouching in pain she moved, reminding herself that she was not to be engaging in 'intense' combat, with that knowledge she ran for the door, pushing obstacles that would only slow him for a few seconds before bracing herself an bearing down the hinges of the door with a blunt length of metal that lay idle on a small shelf, lucky it weakened the hinges enough for her to kick it down completely before sprinting for safety. Luckily safety was close by, this time she ran for him, due to fear and not orders, Steve's quick reaction time was perfect as the Russian leaped down from the higher metal grill floor, his shield hooked to his back as he spun and caught her in his arms, her instinct was no longer to fight, but to run. A childish reaction caused by trauma, Clint thankfully shot an arrow or two to divert attention from the super soldier, but as Natasha looked up to the platform that she'd jumped from, fear struck through, her rival appeared to have vanished, though she was sure she could see the very faint outline of a gun hidden among the shadows.

If she had only been able to catch her breath and yell a warning before the crack of a shot was heard, Clint was down. At that moment Natasha found her strength, pushing Steve away after slipping the USB into one of his pockets and sprinting to her friend, dragging him away from the fighting taking place between Iron Man and an unbelievable amount of henchmen that continued to swarm the hanger as time went on, taking him into the shadows.

"Clint, how do you feel? Open your eyes for me," She scrambled to find some sort of cloth to substitute for a bandage. 

"I'm fine, he only clipped my leg," Barton reassured her, trying to sit up, his eyes dazed seemingly disorientated, his feverish attempts to move took her aback,

_ "I'm fine, he only hit my leg,"  _   _That blonde girl spoke in such a way some may call brave, a way her masters called prideful,_

"I'll call for back up," She said firmly, helping Clint to his feet, letting one of his arms hook around her shoulder as he lent on her for support, moving him behind one the many  large crates and cardboard boxes for cover, a weak one, but cover sure enough. 

"Banner, we could do with a bandage or two," She spoke calmly, though her voice did shake ever so slightly, her hands trembling, she reached into her pocket slipping another pill into her mouth in hopes that perhaps it would help clear her thinking though it wasn't the stated dose, and was clearly a mistake after a few mere seconds or blurred images of Iron Man launching his repulsors and Steve sprinting toward her, grabbing both her and Clint, launching all of them into the air and out of the way as a blast pushed them forward onto the metal grill level above the ground.

The source, being what Natasha could vaguely make out as her sight began to clear, a man, the same man infact,

with a silver arm.

He nodded to himself as if acknowledging an order and began to stride toward a wall before shooting a huge bullet through the concrete creating a hole large enough for him to jump through, as if in awe Rogers stared after that man, his grip loosened ever so slightly and that was it, the catsuit and red slid out of his reach, and she was gone, sprinting, now faster than ever, simply kicking Banner away with a crack of his chest when he tried to intercept, he even toppled over, though not in Hulk form, he was stronger than an average man. But that didn't seem humane, she was going, soaring even, her legs powered her in swift strides and she could just about see him, the Soldier, this would be her chance, reaching into her holster she pulled her knife her eyes not breaking the stare she had on her new target and she threw, with strength, rage, confusion and all the in between, 

And impossibly, he caught it, stopping in his tracks, turning to pull his gun before with just a second to lose he shot behind her, a familiar clang of bullet on vibranium sounding to her left and she felt her air be knocked out, she was pulled, yanked even, from behind by those strong large arms of the image of patriarchy itself, yet she fought it, fought him, kicking Steve harshly to leave bruises on his legs, scratching at his fore arm that was now locked firmly around her neck, keeping her in place though she still struggled with admirable strength, strength unexpected, yet Rogers still held his place, the woman in his arms now becoming subdued, tired. Her limbs weak, no longer gasping for air, as he let her go, she slumped, motionless, unconscious on the ground. 

 -----------

  _The icy air and damp walls were all she could feel, the groans of pain and coughs were all she could hear, and the smell was horrendous, the smell of death. It wouldn't of been surprising if anyone had actually been dying or already decomposing here, it was a neglected part of the project which had been set for 'refurbishment' for the past two years that had now become a desolate abandoned prison for 'failed tests'. Carefully yet effortlessly tip toeing over the bodies of young girls that lay almost lifeless on the cobbles and only flinching at the sensation of the heel of her boot coming into contact with their cold skin, she kicked them aside with glassy dead eyes when they reached for her legs in agony, it was almost like she didn't see them her brain didn't seem to register them as people, just obstacles. After passing that barrier she continued through the dark chamber, until finding the one she wanted after being in here for now almost 2 hours on what felt like a mindless search._

_ She soon began booting the bodies aside, fueled by pure frustration and irritation, she was made for more than this, she was made to kill. The spy let out a huff as she found yet another lookalike and threw their face away, the body attached followed shortly but a moment too late, a familiar crack was heard and the whimpering mess was silent. Whoever that was, she was dead. The woman rolled her eyes and continued to scan through the area in search of- _

_ Her. _

_ A young blonde woman lay writhing in pain, a failure. At this the firey red head smirked, her face lit with amusement, except for her eyes. After unlocking and striding into the large cell, the lady on the floor turned herself over, weak, frail arms somehow lifting up the little weight she had on her. Her body was almost skin and bone, her limbs were thin as were her locks of dull hair, yet above her stood a curved bodied, healthy Russian. It was hard to believe the two had shared a childhood in the same deprived community with the same torturous upbringing, glaring down at the blonde, the spy nudge her with the toe of her boot only to see her flop lightly onto her other side.  _

_ "Zhalkiy," She sneered in disgust at the frail thing that was sprawled on the floor in front of her feet. Giving it another kick did nothing other than gaining a groan of irritation and pain, the Widow's appalled expression only grew, she gave one more kick, harder this time and watched the woman roll again, making no effort to fight back. She scoffed looking down at the pathetic excuse for a human being who'd once challenged her in becoming what she was today the Black Widow , just the thought of her being an opponent made her howl in laughter, a laugh that echoed throughout the basement. A lonely spout of hysterics that nobody else would've seen reason for. _

_ A white static noise sounded from her communication device, a small, black blue-tooth like component that rested comfortably on her ear. At the mere sound of this her laughter ceased and her face was stony and unforgiving again. The woman on the floor had managed to finally turn herself to face up to her ex-competitor with hopeful eyes, squinting at the woman above her a blurry image of black and red appeared to her until it had somewhat cleared and she saw a beautiful, dangerous, face. She'd seen her before, she must have. Once she tried to connect to that feeling of familiarity, she slowly lifted her shaking hand off the ground in hopes to grab the woman's foot. _

_ The spy hadn't paid much attention to the lady on the floor and simply gave information on the site she was situated in, cracking her knuckles she continued to recall details and passing thoughts that were relevant to her mission, to destroy, to eliminate. A millisecond before a frail finger reached her boot she spun and drew her gun to the pathetic mass that lay weakly shielding themselves on the floor.  _

_ Only then did she squint at the face of the odd person at her feet, a childhood rival that had really been short of competition, of course nobody compared to her, she was a legend a notorious assassin whose identity was never clear after just months of eliminating directives, but this one woman in particular had always been just a step behind whilst the rest of the classes had been laps behind the both of them. The Black Widow smirked but her eyes were cold and bore through the thing mask that the trainee had attempted to assume, she knelt down her eyes catching sight of something marvelous, what she'd been searching for, a small dog tag like necklace with which carried a blue glowing fragment of a stone. A stone? A gem? It wasn't made clear which one it was or whether it was either, the scientist had all been wondering the same.  _

_ It's power was out of this world and with it came great threat, for it to be in Hydra's hands would change everything, the US could be down in merely a few months and she'd be praised with an even greater respect than she already had given to her. Reaching down, her hand brushed against the cold cheek of the test subject who shivered as she continued to tremble, the spy saw yet ignored that, her hand reaching for something more, fingers curling around the chain of the necklace, a sharp intake of breath seemed like a small warning from the subject who regarded the spy with wide pleading eyes from which a single tear rolled down her dry skin. The spy tilted her head, her expression softening as she gave a gentle smile her other hand cupping the cheek of the woman on the floor, the Widows eyes glistened with tears as those emerald orbs met those dull blue ones.  _

_ "Please," The woman croaked in somewhat fluent english, her accent made clear she was Russian, sniffing with laboured breath. The voice was familiar yet obscured, it shocked her for a moment as she stiffened before relaxing again. _

_ The red head's eyes filled with confusion and recognition. "How," A reply of disbelief, if this woman was who she thought she was... _

_ "Natalia, me, eto ya, eto ya! Friend!" She repeated her phrases with growing desperation in seeing the blades and weapons the spy was armed with, knowing she could strike at any moment, she did not plan to lose her life though she was almost dead having not eating in a time she couldn't keep track of. If there was a glimmer of hope, it was Natalia, her teammate, her competitor.  _

_ Her friend. _

_ The still moment of tension felt horrendous, taking a terribly long time to process the information was scary for not only the Widow but for the woman on the floor, her hopes lifted when the green eyes seemed to understand, taking another glance at those blue ones then looking away. There was hope. The spy took a few minutes to remain silent then looked back at her again. Her hand had never left the chain and so she yanked quickly, snapping and snatching it away with a glare of disgust. _

_ "Vy upali plokho, malo pauka"  Natalia sneered, a calm exterior that barely hid her sharp voice and deathly gaze. _

_ The girl lay near lifeless on the floor, causing the healthy woman to step over her nonchalantly and give her pinpoint to her pick up, a smirk being the last expression sent the other woman's way before she left. _

_ Some missions were just too easy.  _

_ \---- _

Her hand dropped her gun over the edge of her bed, she felt a warm hand stroking her back and as she turned, her eyes blurry from forced sleep,  _she saw an obscured face or at least she thought she had. "James?" She asked groggily, a hand reaching out to what looked like to her a mop of dark hair,_

_ His lips, they seem to be the only thing the Russian focused on, her piercing gaze flickers up to meet a raw, striking pair of steel eyes. He inhales a small breath as one of her hands slide up his white t shirt, feeling the hard, built muscle that lay hidden underneath the thin material. And he gulps, a little loud too, she cracked a smile forming into a small giggle, one James loved to hear, and soon he's laughing too, his hair brushed her shoulder while his head lowers in amusement.  _

_ They calm down a little, and his eyes are filled with something else, he doesn't know what it is he's feeling but a sudden urge to kiss the woman below him pops into mind. James takes his time as he stroked Natasha's cheek at an  antagonising-ly slow pace. She wants this, so badly, she hooks her arms behind the nape of the Soldier's neck and playfully twists his hair loosely before edging closer. He can't think, simply watching the woman below him with curious, slightly lustful eyes. _

_ They shouldn't be doing this, they could be killed for this. _

_ But- _

_ Then it happens, slow, soft, everything anybody would want, their lips meet, James wants this to last for as long as it can, the spy below him pulls away before coming back for more as soon as she tried to leave. _

_ He almost reaches for her, but hesitates, _

_ "You can touch," She breathes in between their gaps for air, holding his left metal hand with her right, she guides him to her waist, the cold sensation of metal on skin makes her gasp before her other hand leads him down her lips again.  _

_ Hes learning fast, still a little cautious with his actions but now his hands run up and down her side,  light against the leather of her catsuit with a cold pressure on one side and she leads him to the zip. He's pulling this as slowly as possible almost killing her, but she tries to be patient, her eyes focused on those large arms of his, the movement of muscle with metal and how his gaze seems so concentrated on her body. He's gentle, copying her action by trailing kisses and gentle bites along her neck. Taking his time around her collar bones, he knows more than she thought, he keeps unzipping, leaving warm kisses at her breasts and savoring the sound of her groans of approval.  _

_ But that's all he expects from her, travelling back up her body again, sucking gently on her jaw and he's back to her lips, the kiss heated and desperate from Natasha's part, the super soldier follows along. _

_ So she takes the lead, now sucking at his neck as he shudders; embarrassed moans are all he can muster before he finds her lips again.  _

\----

Natasha wakes up with a gasp, turning to and empty side of the bed,

"James?.."

Steve on the other hand stared back at her with a bit of pity before he continued to stroke her back, now her shoulders. "It's me," He said softly, nerves creeping up on him as he realised how her lidded eyes were gazing at him.

"Steve? What happened" Her head pounded slightly and her neck ached when she tried to sit up. "Where's Yelena?" She asked pointedly, almost glaring at the man who's hand was now lingering on her shoulder.

"You're back at the Tower, I'm sorry if your neck hurts by the way" He apologised sheepishly, his eyes darting away to look out the window instead of into her eyes and his hand leaves her shoulder. Natasha lifted up a hand, resting her fingertips on Steve's cheek and guiding him to face her.

"It's okay, I don't mind" She said her eyes empty for a moment before she came back to her senses again. "Did I fail?" She questioned, eyes fixated with the super soldier's lips, enticing lips.

"U-uh, well m-maybe" He stated nervously as the woman below him continued to trace shapes on his skin, running a finger across his jaw while staring up at him innocently. "Maybe?" She airs letting her warm breath tickle his neck.

_ She needed to find  _ **_ him _ ** _ , and if she couldn't.. _

"Uh Romanov, don't you think this is a little inappropriate? I mean uh-" His breath hitches a little when she sighs in a way that borders on a moan.

"I don't think so," She utters playfully, a mischievous smile breaks on her face, one that Steve has barely seen. "Besides, we're alone, right?" She whispers in his ear while quickly glancing at any suspicious looking corners of the room.

_ Why not try a different super solider? _

"I-I suppose, well but still, we shouldn't, it's unprofessional" He wants to pull away but his body stays locked in place, though in his mind he knows he should do the right thing, try to leave.

Natasha slides her other hand behind Steve's back, forcing him to lean down and toward her, they're a breath apart, each inhale and exhale tickles the other one's face and Steve's getting anxious. "Relax," She drawls slowly, her free hand traces his chin and she brings him closer. He's flush, a pink glow spreading across his face while a small nervous smile tugs the edges of his lips.

_ "You're doing well, spider" The mixed accent was almost a whisper, as Natasha began to unbuckle his armour.  _

_ The man gazed at her with more than just lust, with shock, he wasn't supposed to just  _ **_ fall _ ** _  for her. Not like this- _

_ Her hands guided her way to his manhood, as she rocked her clothed form against his, he gasped again. He'd let her take the lead. _

_ "Am, I.." She breathed into his ear, leaning her chin against his shoulder. The Soldier gave a shuddering nod as he restrained himself.  _

_ She took a leisurely pace, as he began to let down his guard, she observed his furrowed brows and the small bead of sweat that began to run gently down the side of his face. His hair was slightly damp from that shower, he hadn't taken the time to dry it off. Her attention turned to his lips, which he was biting heavily almost enough to draw some blood. He suddenly lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers, it shocked her. She stopped. _

_ The soldier grabbed her wrists and pinned her against the bed they'd crashed on. A flash of fear in her eyes was met with comfort, he gave her what she could swear was a smile, a genuine grin, with warmth in his eyes that she'd never seen before. Not like this. _

_ Then his lips came crashing onto her neck, and his flesh hand began to unclothe her, whilst the vibranium one moved to her back, locking her in. _

Before she knew Steve was above her, searching her eyes, they were both breathless and he didn't know what he was meant to do next.

Just as she nibbled at Steve's neck, Jarvis announced that director Fury would like to see Natasha in 15 minutes. She groaned as Steve began to lift away from her as cleared his throat sheepishly. 

"I should, uh, go" He sighed, giving her one last kiss, Nat held on.

"Why.."

"If we started now, 15 minutes won't be long enough" He chuckled, arrogantly. She grinned and kicked her legs over the edge of the bed before standing.

"No, it won't"

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Nikakoy poshchady." No mercy  
> "moye oruzhiye , vy ne udalos', kakoy pozor" my weapon, you have failed me, what a shame.  
> "Ya provalil'" I failed.  
> "Ya provalil, ya ne udalos', i budut nakazany." I failed and will be punished.


End file.
